MORGANFOKKER SAYS THAT YOUR DESPERATION IS VISIBLE AND PATHETIC

Secret Society Part One

The phone rang in the study. It was like a reverse-time anachronism, the electronic trill out of place inside the wood paneled walls, the spines of centuries-old books like mummy wrappings, paintings like oil and canvas skin cells shed by the last millennium's monster. The threat-sense that death may only be hibernation, the way the room determined the interpretation of the ringing. It was too potentially symbolic of futility and the failure of subversion.

Garner followed Kimberly into the room from the noise of the party, where Coalesce electronic pop had won the day. "I hate it in here," he said.

"Then get out," she said, waving him away and reaching for the phone. He smiled sheepishly and exited, the black man in a dark green suit, moving like a lion moves.

Kimberly, shoulder-length blond hair with platinum highlights, sun-peached skin, slim black high-neck and skirt. She tapped the telephone panel to activate the redundant line encrypt, easing into the padded leather chair, cordless receiver to her ear. She hated it in here too, though she wasn't sure why, and hoped that Perdieux would return, someday, changed, with a desire to redecorate.

"Go ahead."

Motel Along Route 666

Mags was in a run-down motel room. She was sitting at a small table, the lamp on, a pair of guns stripped on the table before her. She was in the process of cleaning them when there was a rap on her door.

"The winter winds are blowing," a feminine voice said beyond the door. "It's time for hell to freeze over."

Mags stopped what she was doing. Placing the gun on the table, she looked at the door. She got up from the table and grabbed the pump action shotgun that was on the bed. She brought that to the door and peered out. It was Lucy. Maggie unlocked the door and walked away.

"What do you want?" Mags asked, facing away from the door.

"Well now, isn't this a way to treat an old friend," Lucy said as she strolled into the motel room. Lucy, her hair a flowing red, her eyes with a reddish tinge.

"Since you're old and I ain't your friend to begin with," Mags said as she sat at the table, picking up where she last left off. "What can I do you for?"

Lucy looked about the motel room with distaste. "I see that your taste in rooms has improved... slightly."

"I did my duty," Mags said. "I called in once it had occurred. What needs fixing or changing?"

"Well," Lucy said. She sat down on the bed. "It's of a personal nature. I want you to kill my brother."

"And this will correct this alignment?" Mags asked.

"No," Lucy said. "But it will make me very happy."

A Shift in Time Saves Something Something

His body had that numb feeling, the feeling of millions of small needles jabbing into his skin. It was happening again. 

"Here you go, Max," the waitress said as she placed a ceramic mug in front of him. "Just the way you like it."

"Thanks Julia," Max replied. He paid her with a bill from his jeans. She smiled at him when he added, "Keep the change."

He saw the wave coming, as he sat in the coffee shop and brought the ceramic cup to his lips to taste the brew and savour it. It was the perfect blend of coffee and he didn't know if it would be same in the next few seconds. He could see the subtle changes, but the rest of the world was completly oblivious to the changes. One second a woman was crossing the street, with a child in tow. The next fraction of a second she was walking a great dane.

He felt a great sadness inside him, knowing that a life had been lost and the mother's memory of the child was wiped clean, like diagrams on a blackboard being erased.

He noticed that a pinky ring had appeared on his finger, materializing like a transporter effect in a cheezy sci-fi show. There weren't many differences occuring in the shift. After the wave hit and washed over him, he was sitting in a corporate coffee franchise, instead of an independent cafe. Could have been worse.

He placed the styrofoam cup on the table before him, the logo of the cup stating what company he was drinking from. He caught a reflection of himself in the mirror; he was wearing a purple suit, and a deep purple tie. He adjusted the tie. 

He glanced at his watch, it was a rolex now. He shook his head, a wry smirk came over his face like a December morning.

The sound of an elevator arriving made him glance back. Looking at the wall where old posters had once adorned it, there was a set of shiny doors sliding open. There was Mags. She was dressed in a business power suit, looking more like a corporate lawyer than the butt-kicking, pistol-packing badass that she was.

She spotted him and she shook her head as she approached, with briefcase in her hand. 

"Well, I wonder what this one will bring," Mags said. She gave him a hug and a peck on the cheek. 

"Don't know but be prepared," he said as he looked outside and saw several dark sedans pulling to a screeching halt. "I do think we are about to be paid a visit."

Here Be Demons

Maggie shaded her eyes as she stepped from the building's shadow into the sunlight. Dust clouds rose about her bare feet and leaves danced wildly around her as she strode through the empty street. 

It only took a few moments for her mind to take in the scenery. She had to shake off the lag that sometimes followed a shift. Now she knew how that character in that show felt leaping from body to body. The name of the show eluded her at the moment.

While Maggie stood there thinking about the show, a huge influx of people came running towards her. They washed around her like a wave of water going out to sea. 

What in the heck was happening?

She stood still for a moment; she realized that she was dressed in her pyjamas. Maybe, she thought, she was lucid dreaming again.

A small girl stopped in front of her, looking at her. A look of sheer awe was on her face. 

"What is it?" Maggie asked the girl.

"Are you an angel sent to help us?" the girl asked honestly. "You are very beautiful."

Maggie smiled. "I just might be," she replied and tousled the girl's hair. She squatted down before the girl so that she was seeing her eye to eye. "What seems to be the problem?"

The girl pointed to beyond the hill. 

"The demons are there." She said

"What demons?"

"The ones that came in the night. They ripped a hole in the sky and fell into the ground," the little girl stated matter of factly.

Maggie glanced to the hill. And nodded.

"You should go find your mother," she told the girl. "I've got some work to be doing, and you are not going to like what happens."

She left girl behind her and walked towards the hill. She reached behind her and pulled out a chrome Desert Eagle pistol. She checked to see that it was loaded. Engraved along the side of the barrel was: To Mags From Max.

"Let's just see what these demons are," she muttered to herself. As she crested the ridge she could make out the horde.

"Buro!" she whispered, as if a foul taste had entered her mouth.

Faux News of the Moment

Marketsquare Tree Vandalized
July 10/2005

A BIZARRE chainsaw attack on a 333-year-old heritage-listed tree in Salem's civic centre has sparked a police hunt for the vandal.

Salem police sergeant Corbin Vickers said the man cut into and destroyed the 333 feet high elm tree in Marketsquare at 3:33am (AEST) today.

"That's really bizarre - someone must of had it in for that tree," he said.

Sgt. Vickers said that he was not aware of any previous disruption or controversy surrounding the tree.

"It's apparently a random act," he said.

Salem City Council will fell the tree today, and it has partially closed several inner city streets to traffic.

Police are requesting that anyone with information please report to the authorities.

The man was described as being in his mid to late 20s, with short, light-blonde hair and wearing blue denim pants, a white t-shirt with a logo, long brown socks and brown, lace-up boots.

MORGANFOKKER SAYS STOP PRETENDING THAT IT MATTERS

A Pause of Another Kind

It was midnight in the oasis of the world. The rain danced lightly on the windows of the diner, like a drumline during a halftime show. Two coffee cups, two plates of what was left of a dutch apple pie sat between them on the table. It was like a first date and it felt like one as well since they hadn't seen each other in a while.

Max sat across from Maggie at a booth in Kelly's Diner. 

At the moment Max was scribbling things inside a cigarette package. It look like jumbled numbers. Maggie leaned forward and caught a glimpse of the notes.

"Trying to figure out how much we owe for the coffee?" Maggie asked with a slight wink.

"Just trying to figure out when the next shift will occur," he replied. "I finally found you here, and if I can calculate when the next shift will occur, it might be easier to track you there."

Maggie took a sip from her coffee. Then she reached over and touched his hand, and it was a nice warm sensation.

"Look Max, whatever happens happens," she stated. "Let's just live for this moment and throw caution to the wind. The war will always be there, but we have this refuge at this moment."

Max slid the cigarette lid closed; he only had a few more smokes left. She looked into his eyes and got lost in the depths for a fraction of a moment. 

The moment seemed magical as time appeared to stop. They didn't need to say words to show their affection. It was a shift of an eye, the nod of a head. 

Max was about to say something when Maggie's cellphone went off, a jingle came alive.

"Maggie!" said a faint voice which seemed to be swimming in static. "I can't keep this line open, the temporal tendril will only last a minute or so."

"Professor!" Maggie replied. She hadn't heard his voice in years. "What is it?"

Max leaned forward, as Maggie held the phone from her ear so that he could hear as well.

"You can cross when you... hands joining a circle... We can see you... like television... ...hope you can hear this!" 

Max leaned closer trying to understand the message; the voice sounded like one of the voices in his head that he heard every now and then.

"Maggie," the voice said, "I have to go call the others."

"Others?"

And like a lit match in a strong wind the Professor was gone.

Faux News of the Moment

Man Falls Through Tent, Tumbles Elephant 

Kutchapka Republic - Olikian police were investigating an incident at a circus on Saturday that sent one of the giant mammals crashing into the audience.

Amazingly the only victim of the accident was a 27-year-old man who was treated at a hospital and released, said police spokesperson Romalli Vodan.

"There was something like a giant popping sound and then there was a rip and suddenly this man falls from the sky," said Mikellen Jestry, a witness to the event. "He had short blonde hair, kind of spiky, and stood about 6 feet tall."

The elephant toppled out of the ring after a huge popping sound was heard, and a man fell from the ceiling of the tent, landing on the elephant during Thursday night's performance.

"The elephant was struck in the head, lost its balance and fell into the audience," Vodan said. "Police are still investigating the matter. We are trying to contact this individual who fell through the tent."

Though there is no hole in the ceiling of the tent, it is suspected that the man must of been climbing along the outside at the moment before the accident.

The young man hasn't been seen since his release form the hospital.

Beyond the Limits of Vision

Her eyes glossed over and she shuddered. She knew something was going to happen and when it did her world would change again. It always did when she got this feeling; she couldn't remember what happened prior to that, but she would always get these strange, fragmented dreams that didn't make much sense. She came back out of the semi-trance.

"Ever felt that there was something else in the world?" Maggie asked. "Something beyond your limit of vision, something that you were meant for but were too mundane to see it?"

The question left the group of girls silent, all of them staring at her like she had dropped a ball in a football game. Around them the low murmur of the crowd could still be heard, like background static on a radio show.

"What do you mean, Mags?" Kristella asked. She was just a grade younger than Maggie.

"Oh, here she goes being a Brodie again," Deborah muttered. "Don't get her going Kris, she's off on one of her dindy dreams."

The girls all sat around the cafeteria table, their uniforms pleated and pressed. Sister Mary was patrolling the upper tier, so the girls where clear to discuss whatever struck their fancy until the penguin returned.

Maggie didn't bat an eye at Deborah, but continued on her merry train of thought. "The world itself is a mystery. With events and new discoveries happening every day."

"Yeah," said Edith. "My dad heard this radio broadcast last night that nearly scared the hell out of him, until he found out that it was just a play by Orson Welles. Until the end of the broadcast he thought the we were being invaded!"

A Chance Encounter

"You're him right. You're Max."

"Yeah," said Max as he changed the clip in his gun. He had spent several rounds and now the jackets lay about him like a lazy dog. He stood before the downed tracker, who was just a freaking kid.

The tracker looked up at him and smiled. "Finally, a chance to meet the legend himself. And I can't believe he's going to be the one to finish me off. That's so cool."

"Well, after all, you did try to kill me," Max said. He squatted down over the soldier and reached inside his pocket and pulled out a neon pink book of matches, the logo stating that they were from Club Hanky Panky.

"No offense man, just doing my job," the tracker said, laying his head on the concrete. The tracker chuckled.

"None taken," Max replied. He lit two cigarettes and took a long puff from them both, then he took one and gave it to the kid. Max stood up.

"Before you do this, can I get your autograph? Make it out for my mother." The kid told him what to say on it. Max wrote it inside the matchbook. "Can you send that to her?" the soldier asked.

"Sure kid," Max smiled.

The soldier cracked a huge smile, his lips bloody. "My mother's a huge fan of yours. It'll do her good knowing her son was taken out by the best there is."

"Why don't you give it to her yourself, kid," Max said. He dropped the matchbook on the ground beside the soldier. "What's your name?"

"Dobie, sir."

"Dobie eh?" Max chuckled. "I like that."

There was a long pause, then the kid coughed.

"When you need a better line of work, look me up, Dobie," Max said as he dialed 911 on a cellphone and dropped it beside the kid and walked down the alley like a shadow being consumed by night.

A Strange Musical Interlude

Max pulled into the lot; he parked the car and slid out the door, leaving the keys in the ignition. He reached over and grabbed the book that was sitting on the passenger seat.

As he walked away from the car he instinctively turned in a circle, making sure he had not been followed. He tucked the hardback book under his left arm. His t-shirt declared Witness This!

He walked past a mother pushing a cart with her child in tow. Max could hear the little girl sing a verse from an obscure song. He walked to the mall doors and he could faintly make out the tune of the song that the girl was singing.

He walked through the doors and into the mall. The cool, controlled air greeted him like an old lover. He smiled. Three kids were sitting just inside the door and had picked the right time to sing the next refrain of the song. Max glanced at the boys, who for the life of them didn't realize what they were singing. 

Max passed an old man sitting by a fountain; the hunched fellow was reading a paper, but Max could hear him humming the continuation of the song.

Just then the mall speakers came on and the announcer said the next line in the song, picking up where the old man had left off. 

"This is the place," Max whispered to himself. Then he realized that what he said were lyrics in the song.

A smile larger than a crescent moon cracked his face. He took the book and opened it to a random page and in the words of the first sentence were the next lyrics of the song. He saw his intended destination, strolled inside and there he saw her. She was sitting at a table, a book in front of her, and she looked up and smiled at him just as the waitress placed down two cups of java.

"I was hoping you'd get the message," she said with a sly smile.

Perfect

He hated this reality the moment he awoke in it. 

Sitting on the curb, waiting for the taxi. His thoughts pondered back to the past few days. The sky was blue, there was no hint of pollution anywhere, and everyone greeted each other with a nice hello.

His clothes where bright and pressed, his t-shirt declared nothing at all. He didn't know what he was supposed to do here, or why he had been brought here in the first place. The birds chirped sweetly, the sun always rose, the mornings were always cool. 

And the whole freaking landscape was just suburbia. He wanted to go back to what he knew; to him this was alien. Maybe tomorrow.